


Batman: UNCOVERED

by parkerwillc



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Crime Fighting, Detective Noir, Early in Canon, Explicit Language, Gen, Illustrations, Mystery, Origin Story, Riddles, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:53:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26402995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkerwillc/pseuds/parkerwillc
Summary: Bruce Wayne has only been Batman for a little over a year, and he now finds himself investigating a series of murders that have left the GCPD clueless. While learning to gain the trust of Detective Jim Gordon, Batman must find out who has been committing such vicious crimes. Could it be Mob-Boss Carmine Falcone? Catwoman? Or someone new?
Relationships: Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 9
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE 

It was far too late for Jimmy Edwards to be walking home by himself on the streets of Gotham. You didn’t have to pay attention to the news to know how dangerous this was, especially for a 10-year-old kid. 

_Oh crap,_ Jimmy thought. _It’s a lot darker outside than I thought it would be. If only I had told mom that I was really at Sky’s house instead of a Math Club meeting! Then she could just come and pick me up._

Just last month, one of Jimmy’s classmates, Nicole, decided to walk home alone after staying late at a friend’s house. Tonight, the ‘missing child’ poster for Nicole was posted on the stop sign that Jimmy was walking past. Seeing it sent chills up his spine as he found himself in the same predicament as her. 

Jimmy’s best friend Sky Anderson was two years older than him, and the two had spent the entire evening after school playing raunchy PC games. Originally, Jimmy thought Sky’s mom would be able to give him a ride home. It wasn’t until much later in the night when Sky remembered that his parents were both busy and that Jimmy would have to walk. He had tried to convince Sky to come with him.

“Sky, please!” he pleaded, “I can’t go by myself! And my phone just died!”

“Dude, it’s not even that late. Besides, it’s just a couple blocks, man. You’ll be fine,” Sky retorted. “Unless you’re too chicken shit to go?” He said while making clucking noises at Jimmy. 

“Alright, fine!” Jimmy huffed. 

He grabbed his backpack and shoes and started heading for the door. Right before he left, he felt another wave of panic. “Wait, Sky… what if the giant bat gets me?” 

Sky laughed obnoxiously. “Bro, there’s no giant bat. That’s some dumb shit people made up on Twitter.” 

“It’s true, Sky! My mom was watching the news this morning, and there’s been all these reports of a giant bat beating people up in the city!” 

“Jimmy, everyone who says they’ve seen the bat turned out to be either a criminal or some crackhead! Jesus, man! Hurry up before your mom finds out you skipped math club.” And with that, Sky shut the door in Jimmy’s face.

Jimmy was now starting to walk a little faster, as the spooky sounds of the night began to echo across the empty street. The usual fog that clouded the skies of the city was especially thick tonight, casting a feeling of uneasiness over the dark alleyway that Jimmy now found himself in. 

As he continued to walk, he realized that he was going the wrong way.  
_Shit!_ He thought. _This isn’t Wayne Street. This is Crime Alley!_

Suddenly he heard the sound of footsteps coming from up ahead. 

_Oh hell no!_

Jimmy turned to run but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw that a man in a white, expressionless mask had been following him. The man stood perfectly still with his arms behind his back, until he slowly revealed the long wooden baseball bat he was holding. 

Jimmy froze as the masked man began to approach him menacingly. He whimpered in fear and started to run back the other way as the man began walking faster. 

Then, from out of the shadows, another masked man appeared. Through the fog, Jimmy saw that the man was holding a gun. 

“Help!” Jimmy screamed. “Please! Someone help me!” 

“You better shut the hell up, kid!” The man said, pointing his gun at Jimmy. 

Jimmy cowered as the men cornered him, holding his hands up in surrender. Sweat rolled down his forehead as he saw another masked man appear, holding duct tape and some rope. They grabbed him and forced him down to his knees, and the man with the rope started to tie his hands behind his back. 

“Please let me go! Let me -” Jimmy begged before they covered his mouth with duct tape. 

“That’s right, kid.” The man with the gun said as held it closer to Jimmy’s face, taunting him. “Be a good boy! How about we all go for a nice little ride?” Jimmy trembled as the three men began laughing sinisterly. 

Then, out of the blackness of the night, a dark figure flew down upon the man with the gun, disarming him and knocking him out with a bang! He yelped in pain as the shadowy figure loomed over him.

“What the hell?!” The man with the rope exclaimed, but just as he began to reach for his pocketknife the figure leapt at him. It took the masked man down to the ground and knocked him out with a single punch to the head. 

The remaining masked man tried swinging his baseball bat at the mysterious figure but it deflected the blow perfectly. The figure then sent the man flying into the air with a swift kick to the chest. The man landed on his back, knocking the wind out of him. The shadowy figure grabbed the man up by the scruff of his neck and pulled off the mask, revealing a greasy young man with a goatee and oily black hair. 

“WHO DO YOU WORK FOR?” The shadowy figure boomed in a low, gravelly voice. 

“F-f-f-Falcone!” The kidnapper whimpered through his strangled neck. The figure threw a hard blow to his head, knocking him out. 

Jimmy sat shivering on his knees, trying to make out any details of the strange, black figure that had flown out of the sky.

_It’s the giant bat,_ Jimmy thought. 

Jimmy stared wide-eyed as the figure stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight. 

_Jesus!_

Standing in front of Jimmy was not a giant bat, but rather a tall man in a sleek, black batsuit with a long black cape and a cowl covering the upper half of his face. The cowl had two pointy bat ears protruding from it, and the eyes of his mask were glowing white. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said in his deep voice, slowly approaching Jimmy. He lowered himself to his knees and cautiously removed the duct tape from Jimmy’s mouth. 

“Wh- who are you? You saved me.” Jimmy said, breathing exasperatedly 

The man stood up and looked down at Jimmy.

“I’m Batman.” 

Jimmy stared in bewilderment. As his eyes continued to adjust, he could make out small details in the moonlight. Batman’s suit was made of some sort of heavy-duty armored material, and he had a utility belt around his waist with small compartments in it. On his chest, the symbol of a bat was engraved into the armor. 

Suddenly, police sirens began to blare in the distance. Red and blue lights could be seen driving up through the mist. Leading the parade of police vehicles was Commissioner John Flass, a big burly sack of a man with a buzzcut and a large number of freckles. 

“This is Gotham PD,” Flass barked through his PA speaker. “Put your hands where I can see them and step away from the child.” 

Flass reached for his gun excitedly. “We got him, Jimbo. It’s the Bat!” he said to Detective Jim Gordon, who was riding shotgun. 

Flass nearly jumped out of the car, and without hesitation he shot Batman square in the chest, sending him to the ground. Jimmy screamed. 

“Jesus, Flass! You could have hurt the kid!” Gordon yelled as he slammed the passenger-side door. 

Flass grinned smugly, “But I got him, didn’t I?” 

All the while, no one noticed as Batman reached into his utility belt with a ninja’s level of precision. He activated two smoke bombs, throwing them into the air and creating an eruption of smoke. 

“What the hell?” Flass exclaimed as the smoke swirled through the air, clouding the air in temporary darkness. Gordon and Flass both began coughing, squinting through the smoke’s thick tendrils. 

When the smoke cleared, Batman was gone. Jimmy immediately noticed that the three men who tried to kidnap him had escaped too. 

Gordon looked over at the poor boy, who was very much in shock, tears pouring down his face. 

Gordon turned to one of the other officers, Sgt. Renee Montoya. “We need an EMS here, stat!” Montoya nodded and ran to get the EMS. As Flass continued to scope out the alleyway for Batman, Gordon went to comfort Jimmy. 

“Hey there, buddy. You okay?”

Jimmy nodded unconvincingly.

“What’s your name, son?” Gordon asked.

“Jimmy” he said softly. “Jimmy Edwards.” 

“Nice to meet you, Jimmy,” Gordon said, “My name’s Jimmy, too! I go by Jim, though. Jim Gordon.” He shook the young boy’s hand. “We’re gonna get you home, okay son? It’s all gonna be okay.”

Jimmy nodded compliantly. 

“Did he hurt you son?” Gordon asked.

Jimmy shook his head. “No. He didn’t hurt me. He saved me.”

“He did?” Gordon seemed perplexed. 

“Yeah,” Jimmy responded. “From those bad men who were gonna take me. They said they worked for someone named Falcone.”

Gordon’s eyes widened in concern. He looked over at Commissioner Flass, who was still hunting for the Bat. Flass ordered the team to continue moving down Crime Alley, ordering an immediate fire-on-sight protocol. 

What they didn’t know, however, was that Batman was already miles and miles away in his own custom-made Batmobile, speeding up the winding road towards Wayne Manor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The illustrations featured in this series (every two chapters) were created by yours truly, Parkerwillc! I hope you enjoy reading Batman: Uncovered and I appreciate the continued support! :)

CHAPTER TWO

Carmine Falcone, known by many as ‘The Roman’, lived in the most expensive and lavish penthouse in Gotham, complete with roman-style pillars and a gorgeous pool that stretched across the massive balcony. It was here, in the luxury office that overlooked the balcony that Falcone held his nightly meetings as the leader of the mafia. 

That night, Falcone’s right-hand man, Tony Zuko, had received a distress call from the goons that were hired to abduct Jimmy Edwards. Now, Zuko found himself nervously explaining the situation while Falcone sat behind his wooden desk and slowly smoked a cigar. 

“They said it was the Bat, boss!” Zuko said. 

There was a long pause. Then finally, Falcone spoke.

“Interesting,” he said in a thick, Italian accent. He was an older gentleman in a fitted tuxedo with slicked-back, silver hair and three large, scratch-like scars across the right side of his face. He was a very proud man, who had no trouble showing off his assets. He even had the penthouse made with glass walls to show off the pool and outdoor rose garden. 

And while the glass walls were very chic, they made spying on Falcone very easy for Batman. 

For the past several weeks, Batman had been watching Falcone from the building across the street. Crouched up on a stone gargoyle, Batman used the ultra-lens technology in his cowl to see into the office. He also had a built-in sonar system in the ears of his cowl in order to hear from far distances. 

He stood perfectly still and watched quietly from afar, as Falcone finished his cigar and continued to listen to Zuko.

“They said the Bat showed up outta nowhere, boss! It came down and beat the shit out of ‘em! Then it forced Dice to rat us all out!” 

Falcone furrowed his brow. “That is extremely disappointing to hear. I had faith in Dice to carry this one out. Oh, well. See to it that Johnny takes care of those three.” 

Batman had a feeling he knew exactly what Falcone meant when he said, ‘take care of’. Falcone was smart, though, and he knew to be very careful not to say anything incriminating when he spoke business matters out loud. He was a very paranoid man, always convinced that someone was watching him.

“Of course, boss. Already done!” Zuko affirmed. 

“Very good. You know, Zuko, I should have known not to trust Dice and his dimwitted friends with such an important job,” Falcone said. “From now on, I want you out there making sure everything goes according to plan.”

“Yes, boss!” Zuko responded, sounding slightly panicked. 

“In the meantime, I’ll speak with some friends of ours and see what I can do about this… Bat.” Falcone felt silly saying that aloud. “I’m sure it’s nothing we can’t handle.” 

As they wrapped up their meeting, Batman called his personal assistant/ butler, Alfred Pennyworth, on the built-in communicator in his cowl.

“Yes, sir? Anything new with our lovely, mob-ruling friend?” Alfred said sarcastically in his posh, British dialect.

“He’s choosing his words very carefully,” said Batman. “I think he knows he’s being spied on. He also knows that I’m onto him. He’s definitely gonna take extra precautions to make sure Batman doesn’t get in the way again.” 

“Well, sir, maybe this can be of some assistance: I did some reading on that Edwards boy,” Alfred said. “His father is Tim Edwards, owner of the ever-successful Edwards Diamond Company. The Edwards are said to be worth millions.”

Batman scowled. “I think Falcone is up to his old tricks again.”

“I’m afraid so, sir.” Alfred responded. 

“If Falcone plans on taking more children hostage, then we need to find out who his next target is.”

“Agreed, sir. I’ll gather a list of other prominent families in the city.” 

With that, Batman pressed the button on the side of his wrist and ended their call, getting ready to leave his spot on the top of the building. 

Then something caught his attention: a soft, high-pitched frequency-like sound coming from behind him. It was a sound not entirely unlike the subtle sound that came from the ear monitors in the ears of his cowl. Batman adjusted his ultra-zoom lenses and turned to identify the source of the noise. 

There, about 30 feet away on a nearby rooftop, he saw _her._

Catwoman. 

She was perched up against a railing, watching him secretively. Her glowing, infrared goggles popped against the blackness of the night. The tuning noise seemed to be coming from a strange listening device she was holding up to her ear. 

He saw her for a split second, but she vanished the moment she realized he had seen her. 

Batman quickly pulled out his grappling gun and fired at the railing she had just been leaning against. He flew swiftly up to the top of the building and climbed onto the roof, just in time to see her dive gracefully off the other side. He heard a loud, cracking noise and then suddenly she was flying up to the top of the next building, riding her whip like a swing. He followed her closely and grappled his way up to her. 

In the past year, Catwoman had established herself as the best cat-burglar in the city, with the ability to sneak around any high-security area with ease. He needed to know if she had any information on Falcone, especially given the multitude of encounters he had with her near the Falcone Penthouse over the past year. She seemed to always be lurking around the Roman, never letting him out of her sight. 

“Obsessed, much?” She taunted him as they ran. 

“You were the one spying on me,” he grunted in annoyance. 

He chased her over another few buildings before finally having enough of her games. He grabbed a custom bat-arang out of his utility belt and threw it up at her. As it whistled through the air, a net within the device activated and wrapped itself around her legs. She swore as she fell to the ground and rolled up against the railing.

“You cheated!” She yelled, grabbing at the net.

“You have it out for Falcone. Why are you always hanging around his place?” He asked sternly as he continued to approach her. She sighed in frustration, then sat up and pulled her goggles up onto her cowl - exposing her large sparkling eyes. 

“Just doing some listening, same as you are” she said, gesturing to the cat ears on her cowl. 

He noticed she must have recently updated her cat-ensemble. Just as he had been adding more enhancements to his suit, so had she. What once used to be a bright purple, spandex bodysuit (complete with whiskers and a tail) was now a sleek, all-black, heavy-duty tactical suit. She looked as though she could be ready to rob a bank, ride a motorcycle or get into a fist fight at any given time. 

“Nice suit. Who’d you steal it from?” He asked, still running up to where she had fallen. 

She grinned deviously before activating her retractable claws, which sprang out of the tips of her leather gloves like small daggers. With one perfect slash she cut her way out of the net just in time to cartwheel away from Batman. She pulled out her whip and cracked it against the ground menacingly. 

“What do you know about Falcone?” Batman boomed. “Who does he have on his side?”

“Look,” she said, dropping the playful façade. “The Roman has his claws dug deep in nearly every important person in the city. He is not someone you want to fuck with.” 

With that, she turned and leapt off the edge of the roof.

“I want names!” Batman growled at her, lunging to try and catch her but it was too late. As he peered over the edge of the building, he tried to see which way she went but at that point she had already disappeared into the night.

[](https://imgbb.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE 

The following morning was exceptionally dreary, with heavy rain pounding hard against the walls of Wayne Manor. Alfred Pennyworth (who rarely slept and normally awoke around dawn) had been up for a few hours already, preparing breakfast and watching the news. 

Just as Alfred was finished brewing Master Wayne’s morning cup of coffee, a breaking news story aired loudly from the small TV in the kitchen. 

Alfred’s jaw dropped. 

He quickly gathered up his tray of coffee and biscuits and headed towards the north wing of the house. He knocked frantically on Bruce’s door. 

“Master Bruce, your breakfast! And urgent news!” Alfred continued knocking but there was no answer.

“Sir?” He said, slowly opening the door. 

He looked inside hesitantly before realizing there was no one there. The beautiful king-sized bed in the master bedroom of the house lay empty, but with a small trail of blood leading all the way over to the connected bathroom on the other side of the room. Alfred nearly dropped the breakfast tray all over the expensive rug before setting it down hastily with a nervous clang.

“Master Wayne!” Alfred called out, running towards the bathroom and beginning to knock.

“In here, Alfred!” Bruce called out, sounding very much in pain. 

“Are you hurt, Master Bruce?” Alfred asked.

Bruce opened the door and gestured for Alfred to come in. He was standing shirtless in front of the mirror, trying hastily to stitch up a large bloody gash on the back of his shoulder from an awkward angle. 

“Good Lord, sir, when did that happen?” Alfred said, alarmed. He grabbed some rubber gloves from under the sink and grabbed the bloody tools from Bruce’s hands. He pulled up a stool for Bruce to sit on while Alfred tended to the wound. The ex-military man was quite proficient in providing medical care. 

“I’m not quite sure…There were large shards of broken glass on the ground last night,” Bruce said. “When Commissioner Flass shot me, I fell back… the plate in my suit stopped the bullet but I think I cut myself on the glass.” 

“This is quite a nasty cut, sir. Why didn’t you say anything before? You even went back out a second time to spy on The Roman!”

“Guess I didn’t even feel it was there until it woke me up a little bit ago,” Bruce admitted. “The adrenaline tends to take over in the moment… sometimes I can’t feel the pain until later…”

Alfred tutted disapprovingly. 

Sometimes he was truly frightened when he thought about all the physical trauma Bruce brought onto his body. As he looked at the young, very handsome man in the mirror, he realized how quickly being a crusader of the night had aged him in such a short amount of time. 

Normally, Bruce embodied the ideal Gotham playboy: a tall, toned and extremely wealthy man, with dark hair and excellent bone structure. Now, his skin was covered in scars and bruises, and his eyes were sunken in from exhaustion. 

“You’ve got to be careful, sir!” Alfred said as Bruce winced. “No suit that the Technology Department at Wayne Enterprises makes will ever make you completely invincible.”

Looking up at Alfred through the bathroom mirror, Bruce could see the worry in his godfather’s eyes. Bruce couldn’t help feeling an immense wave of guilt. Alfred finished cleaning and bandaging the cut and went to go get the breakfast tray. 

“And while we’re on the subject…” Alfred continued as Bruce met him in the bedroom.  
“Mr. Fox told me that you sacked the entire Visual Design and Merchandising Division? Why on earth would you do that, sir?” 

The exhaustion was starting to hit Bruce now, and a slight headache was building towards the sides of his temples.

“Alfred, is there coffee?” Bruce asked, rubbing his temples.

Alfred brandished the large tray in front of Bruce and continued his lecturing. “Lucius Fox told me yesterday that you sent one hundred people home without a job this month!” 

Bruce finally started to recall the reason.

“Oh, yes – I remember now. We needed those labs to store batmobile parts and some other specialized weaponry,” Bruce said, matter-of-factly. “But those people didn’t go home jobless, Santini said he would make sure they were taken care of! C’mon, Alfred – you know I wouldn’t approve of that!” 

“It’s a right shame, sir,” Alfred said. “The Merchandising Division created a lot of neat things. It was a personal favorite of your mother’s.” 

Bruce scowled. “Alfred, we needed those resources. Plus, this way Fox is the only person who has access to anything… confidential. It makes sense, security-wise.”

“I trust what Mr. Fox has to say, he was close with your father. He keeps me in the loop, you know, and he tells me that everything that Santini says is a crock of shit!”

“Alfred!” Bruce exclaimed. “What has gotten into you, lately?”

“Pardon my French, sir.” the older gentleman replied. “But, frankly, I fear you don’t pay enough attention at these board meetings. I’m tense. I worry that you preoccupy yourself with Batman so much that Bruce is starting to lose himself.”

“You’re acting like a lunatic, today, Al… I don’t want to listen to any of this right now!” Bruce scoffed. 

“I’m just trying to look out for you, Master Wayne. I fear that Mr. Santini might not have your best interest in mind.” Alfred said sincerely. 

“Well, I’m fine, really. And Santini is gonna get those people other jobs,” Bruce retorted. “Now, doesn’t Bruce Wayne have a meeting with the mayor in an hour to get ready for?”

Alfred suddenly remembered what he ran here to tell Bruce in the first place.

“Ah, yes! That meeting had to be canceled, sir.” Alfred said, pulling out his phone and opening the home page of the “Gotham Daily” App. 

“What?” Bruce exclaimed. “Why?”

Alfred waited for the article to finish loading on his phone before holding it out to show Bruce. 

“Because the mayor is dead, sir.” 

Bruce’s eyes widened in disbelief as he read the story’s headline:

MAYOR GRENICH FOUND DEAD IN OFFICE.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The illustrations featured in this series (every two chapters) were created by yours truly, Parkerwillc! I hope you enjoy reading Batman: Uncovered and I appreciate the continued support! :)

CHAPTER FOUR 

The scene outside the mayor’s house was wildly chaotic, to say the very least. 

Through the heavy rain, Bruce could make out a swarm of police vehicles that were lined along the nearby street, blocking it off entirely. Angry Gothamites were honking their horns and yelling at the cops who were directing traffic away from the area. 

“Alfred, let me out up there!” He said, pointing towards a group of officers who were guarding the blocked-off house. 

“Be sure to watch out for the media, sir.” Alfred nodded towards a group of reporters, filming segments outside the house for the breaking news story. 

Bruce suddenly thought of an idea.

“You know what, Al? I think I actually want to give our friends at ‘Channel Five’ a little show.” 

Alfred sighed. “Very well, sir.” 

The butler pulled the luxurious black limousine up to the officers and Bruce quickly stepped out of the backseat. 

Sgt. Renee Montoya stepped forward. 

“Sir, this is a private investigation, I can’t allow you to come any further,” she said authoritatively. 

Bruce scoffed dramatically while he pretended to struggle with opening his umbrella. 

“Excuse me, officer, do you have any idea who you’re talking to?” He yelled. “I have official Wayne Enterprises business to attend to with Mayor Grenich! We are meeting in his home-office in five minutes!” 

Montoya raised an eyebrow. “You must not pay attention to the news, Mr. Wayne.” 

Bruce’s pompous antics caught the attention of a nearby reporter, who quickly directed her cameraman over to him. 

“It’s Bruce Wayne!” She exclaimed, “Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne, have you heard about what happened to Mayor Grenich? What is your reaction?” 

“What the hell are you talking about? Where is he?” Bruce boomed. 

Montoya sighed, exasperated. “Mr. Wayne, I think we need to have this discussion away from the cameras,” she said, gesturing towards the eager newscaster. They exchanged heated looks before the reporter turned to leave awkwardly, defeatedly commanding her team to cut.

Bruce continued with the arrogant charade. 

“What’s with all this nonsense, officer?” He said, waving towards the yellow caution-tape and dozens of police vehicles. 

“Unfortunately, Mr. Wayne, there’s been a very… sinister situation here.” Montoya took a deep breath before delivering the news. “What I’m about to tell you might be very shocking for you to hear, but… the mayor was found dead, sir.” 

Bruce pretended to be shocked, covering his mouth and producing a slight gasp. “What? I – I can’t believe it! What exactly happened?” 

“That’s classified information at the moment, sir,” she responded. “That’s about all we can tell you right now.” 

“This is all too much for me right now…” Bruce whimpered. He then crumpled to the ground dramatically, eliciting the best fake sobs he could muster. 

The police sergeant was a little taken aback by his reaction but attempted to console him mildly. 

“Calm down, Mr. Wayne,” she gave him a delicate pat on the back, feeling slightly awkward.  
“I - I’m so sorry… I’m sure everything’s gonna be okay…” 

Suddenly, the muffled voice of Commissioner Flass rang over Montoya’s walkie talkie. 

“Montoya, come meet us upstairs. We need you to see this.”

“Copy that, sir,” she responded, “Taking care of a small situation out front but I’ll be right there.” 

Meanwhile, the same reporter from before had returned with her camera crew. She simply couldn’t resist broadcasting this emotional, A-List moment.

“Mr. Wayne, what is your reaction to hearing about the death of the mayor?” She barked while shoving her microphone directly in his face. 

He looked up with soft tears in his eyes. “This is terrible news… I - I just… can’t imagine what his wife must be going through! I’ve met Cathy several times… at different charity events, you know? And the two of them were always together… they seemed so happy…” 

He let the last word trail off into another sob, before taking a deep breath and collecting himself. 

“I want to make sure Cathy and the rest of the family are taken care of,” he said, pulling out a checkbook. “Officer Montoya, do you have a pen on you?”

Montoya resisted the urge to roll her eyes, clearly irritated by the hold-up and snoopy reporters. She reached into her shirt-pocket and produced a black, ballpoint pen and handed it to him. 

“Thank you very much, Sergeant!” Bruce said, before writing a $50,000 check out to Cathy Grenich. He brandished the signed check in front of the cameras. “Wayne Enterprises will be donating $50,000 to the Grenich family for their losses. It’s the least I can do in these trying times!” 

The media began to flood him with questions and hundreds of bright cameras flashed in excitement. Montoya appeared clearly distressed, and during the overwhelming moment, she failed to notice Bruce switch out the pen he had borrowed from her with a new pen from his pocket. 

“Montoya, where the hell are you? We need you here, now!” The commissioner’s voice boomed over the walkie.

Montoya sighed. “Alright, I want all media off the premises now!” She yelled, stepping forward and directing the swarm of people away. “Mr. Wayne, I’m sorry but I am going to have to ask you to leave. This is official GCPD business.”

Bruce nodded sympathetically. “I understand, sergeant.” There was a part of him that felt bad for bothering Montoya during this stressful morning. 

_She’s a good cop,_ He thought. _One of the few._

He turned to get back into the limo, but then quickly returned. “Oh, and don’t forget your pen!” 

She took it back from him and nodded. “Thanks, Wayne… you have a good rest of your day, sir.” She placed the pen in the breast-pocket of her shirt and left to go inside the house. 

“Drive, Alfred.” Bruce said as he got back into the limo, reaching into his briefcase and quickly pulling out a laptop. 

“That was quite the performance, Master Wayne!” Alfred commented from the driver’s seat. “If I may ask, why the theatrics? Also, I thought you never liked Mayor Grenich’s wife?” 

“I don’t. But I needed to find a way in,” he explained. “I gave Montoya a trick pen with a hidden camera and small microphone attached.” 

Alfred scowled. “Well, I must say, sir… that is rather smarmy…even for you.” 

Bruce shot him a deadpan glare from the back seat. 

“Don’t make it weird, Al. I need to find out what happened to Grenich.”

“Think it has something to do with Falcone, sir?” Alfred asked.

“I’m not sure…” Bruce said while beginning to type intensely. 

He pulled up the camera’s feed on his computer and adjusted the sound to come out of the limousine’s speaker system - allowing Alfred to hear, as well. Bruce watched from Montoya’s point-of-view as she made her way to the upper level of the mayor’s beautiful town home, following behind both Commissioner Flass and Detective Jim Gordon. 

Bruce listened to their conversation as they walked through the house.

“So, what exactly happened?” Montoya asked them. “Are we talking suicide, murder…?”

Commissioner Flass turned to face her before opening the door to the mayor’s office. 

“I think you should see for yourself, sergeant.” He replied, swinging open the door and leading them into the room. 

What waited for them in the room was truly a horrific sight:

Sitting behind the mayor’s desk, was Mayor Grenich, himself. 

But there was something missing. Something very important:

His head. 

Laying on the desk in front of the decapitated body, was a silver platter covered with a Victorian-style dome lid. It was the sort of ‘meat cover’ you’d see at a high-class restaurant – but with a large, black question mark painted on it. 

“Dear God…” Montoya exclaimed as they approached the blood-covered desk. 

“The maid discovered this mess first thing in the morning, when she came to deliver the mayor his morning coffee,” Flass explained, before walking up to the desk and grabbing the lid of the silver platter in his hand. “And this is what she found under here…”

He lifted the lid to reveal the grotesque sight underneath: the bloody head of Mayor Grenich on a platter. 

“Jesus!” Montoya gasped.

“They left us a little note, too.” Gordon said, pointing out a green envelope on the desk that also had a black question mark printed across the front. 

“What did it say?” Montoya asked nervously.

Flass grabbed the letter and handed it to her. “Some real psycho bullshit… read it outloud, sergeant.” 

Montoya unfolded the letter and read the killer’s message:

_‘What tells you what you want to hear, but _hurts_ you when the _truth_ is clear?’_

“A riddle?” Montoya asked, confused.

Miles away, Bruce and Alfred shared perplexed looks through the rear-view mirror of the limo. 

“That doesn’t sound like The Roman,” Alfred observed. 

“Not at all…” Bruce sat pondering and staring out the window as they continued to drive through the city.

_What sort of killer goes around leaving riddles behind?_

[](https://ibb.co/FXxp8XP)


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

After an entirely-too-long day of detective work, Jim Gordon found himself finally pulling into the parking garage of his apartment complex on the northeast side of Gotham. Even though the workday was long over, Jim was still in full investigation-mode. 

“Were you able to get ahold of the mayor’s phone records yet?” He asked Officer Montoya over speakerphone. 

“Flass won’t give me access, Jim.” Renee replied. 

“What? Why is Flass safe-guarding evidence?” Jim asked.

“I might have an answer to that, but I can’t prove anything.” Montoya stated, matter-of-factly. “We’ve always known he was sketchy as hell.”

Jim sighed. This case was becoming more and more difficult to solve, what with the police commissioner’s meddling around. 

Almost as if he was involved, somehow. 

“Flass is definitely up to something, Renee. We’ve got to get our hands on that evidence. I want to find out what he’s hiding.”

“Yes, sir.” She responded, before ending their call.

Jim parked the car, turned off his engine and sat silently in the dark garage for a moment; his thoughts running rapidly in a manic blur. A list of potential suspects flashed through his head. The mayor’s murder was twisted and macabre, yes, but also quite impressively executed. 

Who on earth would possess a mind so masterful that he was capable of surpassing the top-level security system installed in the mayor’s mansion without notice? Who could have staged such an elaborate death scene in the middle of the night while the mayor’s own family was sleeping downstairs?

Jim sat there, pondering in silence. Then suddenly, his phone starting ringing - startling him. 

_Jesus, Jim._ He thought to himself. _This city has you on edge._

Jim answered the video call, excited to see the beautiful face of his 17-year-old daughter, Babs. 

“Hi, Princess!” He said, excitedly. 

“Dad! Guess where we are?” She turned the camera around, revealing the stunning image of the Eiffel Tower sparkling in the distance behind her. 

“Woah! That looks beautiful, baby! How’s Paris?”

She turned the camera back towards herself, flashing her perfect smile. She had grown so much since the last time he had seen her in person. He was so proud to see her become such a beautiful and strong young woman. 

Babs was an incredibly gifted gymnast - so gifted, in fact, that she was gearing up to compete in the Summer Olympics. The games were being held in Paris, France the following week. 

“Oh my god, Dad, it’s literally so amazing!” She exclaimed, her voice cutting in and out through the poor cellular connection. “Coach won’t let me eat any of the food, though!”

“That’s alright, baby, the food there is weird anyway!” Jim laughed. “Listen, Babs, I want you to know that I am so proud of you! I can’t wait to see you do your thing on TV!” 

Their phone connection started to get even worse. 

“What was that, Dad? I can’t hear you; you’re cutting out!” Her image started to pixelate and glitch across the screen. 

“I - I said I’m so proud of you, Barbara!” He said, but she still couldn’t hear him. He could hear her mother - his ex-wife, speaking to her in the background. 

“Dad, I’m sorry - we have bad connection! I’ll try to call you- “She said, before the call cut out completely. He let out another frustrated sigh, wishing to himself that he could be there to support her. Instead, he was trapped in the city where crime never slept. 

Jim caught a glimpse of his reflection in the rear-view mirror and adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses.

Studying himself, he was suddenly reminded of an internet meme that Babs had sent him a while ago: depicting a side-by-side of Barack Obama both before and after his presidency. The former president seemed to have stress-aged rather dramatically in the short time span of eight years.

Jim had always considered himself to be a rather studly African American gentleman in his prime, but now he saw how much of a physical toll the job was taking on him. His hair was starting to grey and recede around his temples, and his eyes drooped with exhaustion - just like Obama after his time in office. 

_Jesus, Jim._ He thought. _Look what this city has done to you._

As he stepped out of his police cruiser and into the dark garage, he couldn’t help but suddenly notice a strange noise echo through the empty lot. He paused, placing his hand on his gun and scanning the parking garage for any signs of movement. But there was only silence. 

_That’s weird…_ Jim thought. _I could have sworn I heard… footsteps._

He started to walk swiftly towards the stairs, grabbing the door to the stairwell and hastily throwing it open. Then something sharp whistled right past his head and lodged itself into the stairwell door with a startling clang!

Jim nearly jumped ten feet into the air before whipping out his gun and swirling around to see who had thrown the object. But, to his surprise, there was only darkness. Still holding up his gun, Jim quickly turned back to look at the object that had impaled the door. 

Sticking out from the doorframe, was a piece of sharpened metal, shaped to resemble the silhouette of a bat. Jim recognized what it was immediately: a batarang. 

“This is Gotham PD!” Jim yelled. “Come out where I can see you!”

There was a long pause.

Then, from out of the shadows, a dark figure with glowing, white eyes materialized. Tall, menacing and black as night; Jim knew exactly who this was: The Batman. His long cape bellowed dramatically behind him as he slowly approached the detective. 

“Don’t come any closer!” Jim warned. “I’ll shoot!” 

“I don’t think you’re going to shoot,” Batman replied in a deep, husky voice. 

Jim realized his hands were shaking. 

“Oh yeah? And why is that?” He asked, steadying his gun. 

“Because you’re one of the good ones,” The Bat answered. “I think you can tell for yourself who is really on your side.”

Jim furrowed his brow. “That kid… in crime alley… you saved him from those thugs, didn’t you?”

Batman continued to stand perfectly still. “Those were Falcone’s men. He runs this city. I think he has something to do with Mayor Grenich’s murder.” 

“Whoever killed Grenich was one smart son-of-a-bitch,” Jim said. “Too elaborate… too sneaky… I don’t think it was The Roman.”

Batman’s glowing eyes narrowed. “No,” he replied, “He didn’t do it. But I think he’s connected somehow. That’s why I need your help, Gordon.” 

Jim continued to point his gun but loosened his grip on the trigger. 

“I need access to the evidence,” Batman continued. “There was a note left at the crime scene – I need to see it.”

“Commissioner Flass is hoarding all of that evidence at GCPD… I don’t think I can get it to you…” Jim admitted. “Besides… what makes you think I can trust you with all that stuff? You’re just some vigilante freak.” 

There was another awkward moment of silence. 

“Fine,” Batman finally retorted. “I suppose we don’t have to work together. But let me give you one piece of advice: The note that the mayor’s killer left? Find it. Get it away from Flass. And hold it under an open flame.” 

With those final words, he swiftly turned to leave, flourishing his long cape behind him in a gust of wind. 

Jim tucked away his gun and pulled out his flashlight, shining it around the parking garage frantically. 

“Wait, Batman!” he exclaimed. But there was nothing left to be found but some parked cars and the wind whistling through the silence of the night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The illustrations featured in this series (every two chapters) were created by yours truly, Parkerwillc! I hope you enjoy reading Batman: Uncovered and I appreciate the continued support! :)

CHAPTER SIX

It had been an excruciatingly long day for Commissioner Arnold Flass, ever since finding out about the mysterious murder of Gotham’s mayor that morning. After feeling like a nervous wreck the entire day, the burly sack of a man found himself driving back to GCPD. As he drove, he whispered frantically to someone on the phone. 

“I thought you had us protected, boss?!” He sneered condescendingly as he said the last word. “Now Grenich is dead, and every cop in the city is looking at me with a magnifying glass! I can’t hold on to the evidence any longer without looking too suspicious, you know?” 

“I would be very careful about how you speak to me, Arnold,” a menacing voice replied in a thick, Italian accent. “I have given you everything you have, and I can take it away just as easily.” 

In that very moment, Flass noticed in his rear-view mirror that he was being followed by another car. It trailed behind him uncomfortably close, with its headlights glaring brightly. He gulped nervously, forcing himself to pay attention to the road ahead. 

“S-sorry, boss!” He said nervously. 

“I’m sure you are,” said the voice. “It would be quite disappointing for me to have to dispose of you after so many years of partnership, you understand?” 

“Yes, boss.” Flass responded, somewhat humiliated.

“Very good, Arnold. Now, do exactly as I say,” The voice demanded. “First, destroy that letter that was left there. Then, get rid of any evidence of correspondence between you and me that your careless ass might have left around your office or home. One of my partners was killed, Flass. That means any one of you could be next. We must take action! Understand?”

“Y-yes, boss!” Flass pleaded. 

“And remember, Arnold: The Bat is our greatest distraction. Use him to pull focus away from us as much as you can! I am counting on you, Flass.”

“Yes, sir!” Flass’s voice was merely a whimper at this point. 

In that moment, their call was ended. Flass noticed that there was no longer a car following him as he approached the entrance to the police station.

The commissioner made his way through the vacant building, feeling a sense of uneasiness being here so late in the night. As Flass approached the hallway that led to his office, something seemed… off. He noticed that the door to his office was hanging open slightly, letting a narrow beam of light shine through the dark hallway. He heard footsteps coming from inside. 

Flass grabbed his gun and shouted as he approached the door. 

“This is the Commissioner, put your hands up and surrender!” He boomed, kicking open the door and revealing a very startled Detective Jim Gordon, standing in front of Flass’s desk. 

“Gordon! Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me. What the hell are you doing here, punk?” Flass barked, lowering his gun. 

“Commissioner, I need to see the note that the mayor’s killer left - it’s important! They told me you were withholding it in here,” Jim replied, gesturing toward the desk. 

“Well I’m afraid I can’t let you see it, Jimbo,” Flass retorted. “Highly confidential… commissioner’s eyes only!” 

“And why is that?” Gordon huffed.

“Listen, Jimbo, this was clearly a direct attack by The Batman on the city of Gotham. Therefore, as the Commissioner of this police force, I’m the only one who has access to any of this evidence.”

“With all due respect, Commissioner, it is completely unethical for you to withhold this evidence, you could be fired for this!” Jim stated, matter-of-factly. 

“Oh really?” Flass scoffed. He closed in on Jim menacingly, using his height and broad stature as an intimidation tactic. 

“You know, I think you might be butting in just a little too much, detective. I would be careful because it’s starting to really irritate me.”

Jim continued to stand his ground. “You can try to intimidate me all you want but you don’t scare me, Flass. I think you must have something to hide, you’re acting like a nervous wreck. And this Batman bullshit is all some big distraction!”

Flass narrowed his eyes in rage. “Get the hell out of my office, now!” 

Jim reluctantly turned to leave, slamming the door shut as he went. 

Flass let out a sigh of relief. He was finally alone. Now he could carry out his duty.

He went to sit at his desk and rummaged around the drawers, sifting through old documents and gathering up a stack of specific ones he found. Then, he pulled open the drawer where he had been keeping the crime scene evidence in a manilla folder. He opened it and pulled out the green envelope with the sharp black question mark printed across it. 

_Just to be sure,_ he thought. 

He unsealed the envelope and withdrew the folded up note that had been placed inside. After unfolding the note to take a second look at the riddle, he gasped in shock. 

Instead of holding the killer’s riddle, Flass was merely holding a blank piece of white paper. 

“Gordon!” Flass shouted in fury as he realized what had happened. 

Suddenly, the door to his office slowly opened, seemingly by itself. 

“Who’s there?” Flass shouted, “Gordon, is that you, you asshole?! You tampered with the evidence! You think that's funny?” 

There was no response, only silence. He tried to make out the shadowy figure that was standing in the hallway outside but it was too dark to see. 

In a split second, a tranquilizer dart shot out through the darkness and pierced into his neck. 

He barely had time to process what had happened before falling into a deep sleep.

[](https://imgbb.com/)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The illustrations featured in this series (mainly every two chapters) were created by yours truly, Parkerwillc! I hope you enjoy reading Batman: Uncovered and I appreciate the continued support! :)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Jim’s heart was racing as he entered the parking garage for the second time that night. His hands gripped the steering wheel tensely as he drove up to the top level. 

_This had better be worth it,_ He thought to himself. The choice to undermine Flass and sneakily obtain the killer’s note was quite risky. He knew he could lose his job (or worse) for tampering with the evidence, yet something told him he was making the right choice. 

After parking in his usual spot, he popped open the trunk and pulled out his hand-made contraption: an extra-large flashlight, complete with a “batarang” (which Batman had thrown into the exit door of the parking garage earlier that evening) taped up onto the bulb. 

He did a quick double-take to make sure no one else was hanging out in the garage, then switched on the flashlight. Jim shone the light up onto the large wall of the parking garage, boldly projecting the macabre image of a bat across the dark backdrop. 

He stood there flashing this signal for a few minutes, before growing weary. 

_Was this a dumb idea?_ Jim thought.

He waited for a few more moments before deciding to give it up. Switching off the light, he turned to go back to his car… and found himself standing face to face with Batman. 

Jim nearly had a heart attack, flinching in an almost cartoonish way. 

“Jesus!” He gasped in shock, before letting out a relieved sigh and shaking his head. “Don’t sneak up on me like that, man!” 

Batman stood perfectly still; his face expressionless. 

“Did you get the letter from Flass?” Batman said in his low, foreboding tone. 

“Reluctantly… yes.” Gordon sighed, switching off the flashlight.

He reached into the pocket of his trench coat and pulled out the folded piece of parchment-like paper. He began to hold it out but then hesitated. 

“I’m not sure why, but some kind of instinct is telling me… to trust you,” Jim said, rather intensely. “And God knows I do not trust Flass!”

Gordon handed Batman the killer’s letter, which felt piping hot in his armored, gloved hands as he unfolded it. He noticed immediately that the message was written once initially in ballpoint pen, and then traced several times over again. Whoever wrote it made sure to trace each word in such a way that it disguised any identifying traits in the handwriting. 

He read the sinister message again:

_What tells you what you want to hear, but _hurts_ you when the _  
truth_ is clear? _

Gordon also held out a cigarette lighter. “Not sure what makes you think this will work, but I figured: ‘What the hell?!’” 

Batman did not acknowledge Gordon’s lighter, instead he began to adjust the settings on his state-of-the-art cowl. 

“Blacklight works too,” he stated, activating a setting which made the eyes of his cowl glow with bright, violet light. He held the paper slightly closer to his face, projecting a concentrated ray of the violet light across the surface of the page. 

To Jim’s surprise, new words were beginning to slowly form across the original writing, but these words were electric green and written in scratchy, uppercase writing.

_  
TO THE BATMAN,_

_THIS PAST YEAR, YOU’VE GARNERED FAME._  
NOW, HOW ABOUT WE PLAY A GAME?  


__

A feeling of pure dread overcame Batman as he processed what he had just read. 

“I’m not gonna lie, I’m certainly impressed.” Jim admitted sheepishly. “Now, my question is: what made you think there was a secret message? And how did you know that was going to work?” 

Batman ignored Jim’s inquiries and continued to quietly analyze the message. He noticed something unusual almost immediately: the dot at the base of the question mark was covered in strange sequences of dots and pixel-like boxes. Something about the design seemed familiar to Batman, but he couldn’t place the source. 

“Wait a damn minute…” Gordon exclaimed as he too began to process the contents of this new message. “Why is this psychopath writing to _you?_ ”

Batman heard the concern in Gordon’s voice, yet he continued to stay silent. The truth was, Batman did not have an answer for Gordon. He wasn’t exactly sure how to explain any of his reasoning without revealing his secret identity. 

Batman and Gordon’s eyes locked onto each other’s in a tense moment, and Batman noticed that Jim’s hand was cautiously gripping the handle of the gun which was strapped to his belt. 

“Not so sure you trust me anymore, Detective?” Batman said, his voice even lower than usual.

“Well, I mean… the mayor’s killer wants to play a… game with you…” Jim laughed slightly under his breath, very nervous. “It’s not exactly a good look.” 

They continued to have somewhat of an awkward, yet very tense, staredown. In a moment of panic, Jim pulled out his gun.

In that very instant, Batman threw a smoke bomb at the ground between their feet. Jim was sent into a coughing fit, and when the smoke finally cleared, Batman was gone. And so was the killer’s note.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The illustrations featured in this series (mainly every two chapters) were created by yours truly, Parkerwillc! I hope you enjoy reading Batman: Uncovered and I appreciate the continued support! :)

CHAPTER EIGHT

There had always been a vast series of underground catacombs below the Wayne Family’s mansion. Each generation of Waynes utilized this area differently. At one point, it was used as refuge for escaped slaves during the Civil War. Later Bruce’s father, Thomas, was a collector of vintage sports cars, and he had built a vast, winding garage with different levels of runways and platforms for car displays. 

Bruce recalled a particular memory from his childhood, wherein his father brought him down to the cave-garage hybrid to see a new car that he had added to the collection. It was truly a beauty of a machine: sleek and matte-black, with angular edges and an exposed engine. Bruce was in love. 

“Can we drive it around?” Young Bruce asked excitedly. He knew the answer would be ‘no’ but figured he’d ask anyway. 

“Absolutely not, but I admire your audaciousness, son.” His father said with a laugh. 

Bruce was disappointed for a split second, but then couldn’t help but laugh either. 

“Worth a shot,” he chuckled, sheepishly. 

But his laughter was cut short as a large, screeching bat flew out of the darkness of the cave and seemed to dive through the air towards them. Bruce screamed in terror, covering his face in his hands as he began to run to safety. The bat, in reality, was simply minding its own business and flying around, as bats tend to do. However, in Bruce’s young mind, a flight-or-fight response was activated, and he chose _flight_.

In an impulsive decision, Bruce whipped open the back seat of his father’s brand-new purchase and flung himself in. He slammed the car door shut and tucked himself into the fetal position, still covering his face in his hands. 

“Bruce, it’s okay!” His father exclaimed, opening the door and clambering into the backseat as well. “It’s okay, it was just a bat, Bruce! It flew away.”

He placed a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, and noticed his son was shaking in fear.

“Bruce, my goodness, you’re shaking!” He said in a concerned voice.

Bruce looked up at him with tears in his eyes.

“I hate bats, dad!” He proclaimed sincerely. “I really, really _hate_ them!”

His father sighed and brought Bruce in for a comforting hug.  
“It’s okay, son. Don’t worry!” He reassured him. “I’m here, everything’s fine. I’ll call and have someone out here to get rid of the bats, okay? I didn’t even realize there were any down here, honestly!” Bruce felt protected in his father’s arms, and eventually he was able to get back out of the car and they went about the rest of their day. 

Unfortunately, Thomas Wayne was never able to hire an exterminator to deal with the bats. He and Bruce’s mother, Martha, were gunned down later that same week in Crime Alley. Bruce himself was a witness. 

As a response to the unbearable trauma, Bruce left Gotham City and his parents’ house behind for many years. It was only recently that he had returned - along with Alfred, of course. 

The small family of bats had only grown in numbers over the years while Wayne Manor sat abandoned, and hundreds of them now occupied the vast cave. Bruce accepted them now, often finding comfort in their gothic presence. In a bizarre twist of irony, the creatures which had frightened him most as a child were now a source of companionship. They were keeping him company as he sat in his dark solitude, reflecting on this bittersweet memory with his father. 

Now that the property belonged to Bruce, the space was being used quite… uniquely. The vintage cars had been moved to a storage facility, but the runways and platforms stayed intact. The bright, fluorescent lighting normally associated with vehicle storage was swapped out with moody, very soft blue lights that bathed the dark cave in an eerie glow. 

Each level of the repurposed garage served a different function. One contained a plethora of armored batsuits, displayed in their own cases with coinciding bat cowls, capes and boots. Another level was an armory of sorts, featuring a multitude of weapons and gadgets.  
The top level was devoted to transportation: a plane, a submarine and, most importantly, the Batmobile, were all stored here. 

On the lowest level, Bruce had a very impressive, state-of-the-art computer set up with a huge desktop screen. He was now typing away at the computer, refusing to sleep until he could find more answers. He hadn’t even fully removed his batsuit yet, aside from the cowl. Alfred had long since gone to bed, so Bruce was left alone with the bats as he examined the zoomed-in image he had taken of the killer’s note on the large, main screen. 

He continued to be fixated on the strange question mark at the end of the killer’s message. 

_I just _know_ I’ve seen this symbol somewhere before…_ He continued to recite this thought to himself as he zoomed in even further. 

If he hadn’t been thinking of his father mere moments before, he maybe wouldn’t have put the pieces together. But suddenly, it clicked in his mind:

_It’s a ‘WECODE’!_ He thought, triumphantly. 

‘WECODE’ was an abbreviation, standing for ‘Wayne Enterprises Code’ – a project created by the designers at Wayne Enterprises that was riding on the coattails of the newly patented “QR Code”. Just like a QR Code, a ‘WECODE’ could be scanned with a smartphone and used to direct the viewer to an external link or media file. The ‘WECODE’, however, had a distinct feature: the creator of the code was given the option to lock their code with a password, allowing for a more secretive method of communication. 

Bruce remembered that the ‘WECODE’ project was ultimately a massive failure, as it was all just too similar to the QR Code to really catch on. The general public hadn’t responded well, and eventually not a single person in the world was sending or receiving any ‘WECODE’s. 

At least, not until now. Bruce felt a wave of uneasiness. 

An iPhone scan later, he was redirected to a lock screen with a space to enter a 4-digit code. 

He thought back to the original message left by the killer at the scene of Mayor Grenich’s murder: 

_What tells you what you want to hear, but hurts you when the _truth_ is clear?_

__He went with his gut instinct and typed his answer carefully into the password box._ _

___L I A R._ _ _

__He froze in a slight moment of trepidation, then clicked ‘enter’. A video file appeared – which Bruce decided to display up onto the large computer screen. He pressed ‘play’._ _

__The video began with a quick sequence of jump cuts which depicted some disturbing images: Starving children in the dirty Gotham streets, masked gang members posing with knives and guns, corrupt cops brutally beating innocent bystanders to a pulp. These flashed quickly across the screen in a chaotic rush, along with the words ‘WHO’S REALLY IN CHARGE?’._ _

__Then a very strange _someone_ appeared onscreen. _ _

__It appeared to be a masked man wearing a dark green trench coat and a matching green bowler hat (which had a large, black question mark on the front). The mask he wore was quite frightening; it was a bizarre exaggeration of a human face, with a creepy grin. The face on the mask itself had a black domino mask over the eyes, like some kind of demented ‘Zorro’._ _

__The masked man sat behind a desk in the middle of a very dark room with all kinds of sinister graffiti painted across the wall behind him. His hands (which were decked out in purple, rubber gloves) were folded on the desk in an eerie, overly polite way before he waved hello with a theatrical flourish._ _

“ **Hello, Batman,** ” He said in an extremely deep, artificial voice which was clearly achieved with the help of a creepy voice filter. 

“ **Allow me to introduce myself. They call me ‘The Riddler’. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Congratulations on unlocking my little game. Let’s consider this ‘Level One’. Now, listen carefully:** ” 

There was a suspenseful pause, then he continued. 

**“The rules are very simple: Every day, someone _important_ to the city of Gotham is going to die, just like the mayor. Unless you can save them, of course. But just _who_ will it be? And _where_ will they be? That’s up to you to find out. But don’t worry, Batman – I won’t leave you without any hints. As a matter of fact, I rather enjoy giving out clues…” **

He held out a gloved hand towards someone who was standing out of frame. Whoever it was handed him a rolled up piece of paper, which he unrolled swiftly. 

**“Ah, here’s your first clue:**

**‘Who is both your hopeful savior and also your most violent threat?’”**

Bruce’s heartbeat was starting to accelerate as he anxiously wracked his brain for an answer, but nothing came to mind. 

**“Think on it for a little bit, Batman… but not too much longer. Remember, lives are at stake here. Good luck, and happy solving,”** The Riddler said, finishing with a menacing wave before the screen cut to black. 

__Bruce sat in the dark while The Riddler’s last words echoed through the reverberant cave walls. He was extremely perplexed, yet one thing was very clear:_ _

__He was not going to be getting any sleep for quite some time._ _


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE:

**5:00 AM**

Jim’s hands were trembling as he tried to sip his morning coffee on the way to the Gotham City Police Department. He had not slept a wink, his mind was racing with fearful anxieties. 

_Would Flass have seen the missing piece of evidence? What if he was checking the security tapes now to identify the mystery thief?_ He shuddered at the thought.

On the way up the large front steps of GCPD’s entrance, he saw Montoya. She was waiting for him up at the main door, smoking a cigarette anxiously. Smoking was something she only did when she was particularly stressed out. 

“Flass isn’t here,” she sighed. “He was supposed to be here a half hour ago.” 

“Well, that’s not super out-of-the-ordinary for Flass, you know.” He replied, somewhat relieved. 

“There’s a press conference in two hours, though,” she said, putting out her cigarette and following him inside. “He better be here soon!” 

He nodded in agreement but then paused. 

“Listen, there’s something I have to tell you…” He said nervously, and she agreed to meet with him upstairs in Flass’s now very vacant office. There, he started to fill her in on the events of the night. 

He explained the tense exchanges he had with both Commissioner Flass and this mysterious Batman character, and admitted to stealing the killer’s riddle from Flass’s desk. When he finished, she looked nervously over at the desk. 

“Jesus, Jim! Are you trying to get your ass killed?” She exclaimed before her eyes went back to the desk. “You think he noticed it was gone?”

“Maybe,” he said. “Let’s see if any of it is still here.”

He went to sit at the desk and opened the first drawer. The killer’s envelope was still there, along with everything else that was there before. Jim grabbed the envelope and opened it, expecting to see the blank piece of paper he had put in place of the killer’s note. 

However, much to Jim’s astonishment, the killer’s note (now updated with the green hidden message) had been returned to its original place. There was a yellow post-it note attached to it now, signed with the familiar symbol of a bat in permanent marker. Jim stared in bewilderment. 

“What is it, Jim?” Montoya asked.

He was rather speechless. 

“Batman…He… gave it back.” Gordon replied, holding up the post-it note for her to see. They both looked at one another with puzzled expressions. 

_Who the hell is this guy?_ They both seemed to wonder.

**11:05 AM**

“More coffee, sir?” Alfred inquired while brandishing his serving tray in front of Bruce’s face - the only way to distract him from studying every microsecond of The Riddler’s demented message on the computer screen. Bruce had pulled an all-nighter in the underground cave, and he continued to watch the video in an exhausted funk. 

Bruce accepted another cup without looking away from the screen, continuously rewinding the footage on a loop. 

“By the way, Mr. Fox called… again. He was rather disappointed that you were yet again unable to make it to the Wayne Enterprises Board Meeting,” Alfred said disapprovingly. “He could have really used Bruce Wayne’s support against some of the other board members who certainly do not have the company’s best interests in mind.” 

“Alfred, Lucius knows about Batman,” He retorted, finally pausing the video and taking out his headphones. “He should understand why I can’t be available for business meetings right now.” 

“Well, maybe you should explain that to him yourself, then,” Alfred huffed, turning to leave the desolate cave. 

“Alfred, I can call Lucius later… there are more pressing matters here! I really d-“ He began, before Alfred intercepted. 

“‘Don’t have time for it’, I know, sir.” Alfred stated, rather cooly, before finally exiting up the hidden staircase to the ground floors of Wayne Manor. 

Alfred’s sassy reply had quite a surprising sting to it. Although Bruce was now feeling quite regretful for his actions, he continued to press on. He was determined to play The Riddler’s twisted game, regardless of the personal costs. He really _didn’t_ have time for any of this.

He put his headphones back in, and once again replayed the video - this time, blasting the volume in order to fully immerse himself. 

**“Congratulations on unlocking my little game, Batman,”** The Riddler’s demonic voice echoed through the cave. **“Let’s consider this ‘Level One’. Now, listen carefully…”** He said before taking a rather long pause.

In that very moment, Bruce noticed something he hadn’t before: a very soft voice saying something in the background before The Riddler continued. It was hard to tell exactly what it was saying; The Riddler must have really meant it when he said “listen carefully”. 

Bruce let out a sigh of relief.

_A clue, finally._

Suddenly, a new thought dawned on him: As tech savvy as he considered himself to be, he truly didn’t know a thing about audio isolation or mixing. 

_I guess I really should give Lucius Fox a call,_ he admitted to himself.

**8:30 PM**

  
Once again, Gordon found himself alone in the dark parking garage of his apartment building. This time, however, he wasn’t _completely_ alone - he was speaking to Officer Montoya on the phone. 

“Any sign of Flass?” He asked in a nervous whisper.

“Nope,” Montoya replied. “I spoke with his wife, she has no idea where he is. And I still haven’t gotten any responses to the gazillion text messages and calls I left him.” 

“Jesus, Renee,” Jim sighed in frustration. “This can’t be happening! Where the hell is he?” 

“It’s ridiculous, I know,” she said. “The mayor gets killed and the police commissioner goes missing the next day!”

“Keep looking, we need to find him soon!” Jim responded. “We had to cancel the press conference today, if we cancel another one the media is gonna have a field day!”

“I will.” She affirmed. “And what about you, have you seen _him_ yet?”

“Not yet, but I’m getting ready to signal him.” Jim looked around the empty garage cautiously. 

“Need me to stay on the line, just in case?” She asked. 

“No… I should be fine. Let me know if you find Flass.”

“Okay, good luck Jim!” She said before hanging up. 

Just as before, Jim lit up the parking garage with the symbol of The Bat. And, also as before, it did not take very long before The Bat himself made an appearance. This time, he stayed back in the shadows again - A striking black silhouette, contrasting against the soft moonlight streaming in from behind him. He was certainly wary of Gordon, considering the outcome of their most recent meeting. 

“Look, I’m not gonna pull another gun out on you, I promise!” Gordon said, holding his hands up in surrender.

Batman’s glowing white eyes narrowed. “Nice light,” he replied, staying firmly planted in the distant shadows.

Gordon was suddenly slightly embarrassed by his little contraption, which now felt like it weighed a hundred pounds heavier. He switched it off and set it down on the hood of his police cruiser. 

“Did you figure anything out?” Jim asked, trying to change the subject. 

Batman ignored the question and instead asked another: “Where is the Commissioner?”

Gordon was caught off-guard. “Flass? Well.. we don’t know, to be honest! H-He’s been missing all day, no ones seen him! Why?” 

A wave of affirmation crashed through Batman’s mind as he put the pieces of the puzzle together.

“I have a lot to fill you in on, Detective.” He responded cooly, before noticing a new notification pop up on the built-in communicator on his wrist. 

It was a text message from Mr. Lucius Fox, which read:

**Just finished isolating that sound bite, Wayne. I’m pretty sure they are coordinates. Sounds like he’s saying 40.712776, -71.259870.**

****

****

**_-LF  
_**

__

“Looks like I’ll have to get you caught up while we’re in the car,” said Batman, reaching into his cape and pulling out a futuristic looking key-fob, which he held out behind him and pressed. 

“Car?” Gordon asked, before nearly collapsing on the ground as the most insane piece of automotive machinery roared to life and lit up gloriously from out of the shadows behind Batman. It had to have been the most expensive-looking, high-tech, well-armored vehicle Jim had ever seen. It appeared to be some sort of souped-up, all-black muscle car with sleek rear wings that looked like the actual wings of a bat. 

Jim’s jaw was on the floor. 

“There’s no way I’m getting in that thing!” He exclaimed. 

“C’mon, there’s no time to waste, Detective!” Batman huffed, jumping into the driver’s seat in a flash.

Jim hesitated for just a moment before letting out a nervous sigh. 

_There’s no going back, now, Jimbo._ He thought to himself.

Mere seconds later, Detective Jim Gordon was riding passenger-side in the Batmobile as they zoomed out of the parking garage at a wicked speed.

[](https://imgbb.com/)


End file.
